


Freaky Tuesday

by WillowFromBuffy



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-21 04:14:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16569440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillowFromBuffy/pseuds/WillowFromBuffy
Summary: Willow has been serving as Buffy's side-man for four whole years, but a backfired spell forces her to step up and lead. Does Willow have what it takes to become the Hellmouth's new protector?





	1. Buffy Who?

She was running. The deafening roar of the minigun almost burst her ear drums. She leap frogged across the console, hoping it would provide some temporary cover. She landed hard on the other side. Bullets came ripping through the machine, hitting the wall behind her. Then it happened. Someone entered her. No. A collective of someones, merged into a single entity. She was no longer a cheerleader from LA or an unemployed librarian or a young boy who liked comic books or the young girl who was taken from her tribe and turned into something scary and freakish ... she was all of these things.  
  
She heard Adam say, “You can not last much longer.”  
  
There was smoke all around her. All of the voices inside her rose up and said, “We can. We are forever.”  
  
The echoing roar of the minigun resumed, but this time, she was not afraid. The bullets pulled at the air in front of her, as if it had turned elastic, stopping long before they reached her.  
  
When Adam came for her, she was ready. His arms moved as though they were trying to swim through tar. She rolled her torso around his punches with ease. It was like they were experiencing time at different speeds. She jumped into the air and found herself to be almost weightless. She kicked him several times before landing softly on her feet again. It was a rush. She realised that this state may not be sustainable, so she decided to move for the kill. She plunged her arm into Adam's violated hybrid flesh and pulled out his battery – the embarrassing truth of his supposed power.  
  
Then something happened and she felt herself fainting. Riley came running into the room to catch her. She feel … to the floor … through the floor. When her head cleared, Buffy opened her eyes to find that she was sitting in front of Xander and Giles. Xander was rubbing his temples. Giles appeared to be asleep. His glasses were askew and a line of drool extended from his slack jawed mouth.  
  
“I think I need a glass of scotch followed by a very long nap,” Xander said.  
  
“That was incredible,” Buffy said. “The power … I have never felt anything like it.”  
  
“Um … yes … it was indeed quite the experience,” Xander said.  
  
Buffy turned towards the sound of some rattle behind them. Riley was coming into the room, leading a blonde girl in front of him. The girl seemed to be trying to pull herself free. “I get that you are happy, Riley, but perhaps we shouldn't celebrate until we are all safe,” the girl said. Once the pair were clear of the smoke, Buffy was shocked to realise that the girl looked exactly like herself.  
  
“You're all all right,” Riley said, looking around the room and letting go of the girl's shoulders.  
  
The girl had noticed Buffy and was now looking back at her with exactly the same expression of utter shock that Buffy imagined she herself had on her own face.  
  
“You … you look like me,” Buffy said. She turned to look at Xander and then Riley. Neither of them looked like they understood what she was talking about.  
  
“It seemed dire for a while,” Riley said and once again put his hands on the strange girl's shoulders. “I am just so happy you all made it.” He leaned forward and planted a kiss on the strange girl's cheek.  
  
“I told you to stop,” the strange girl said. She shook herself loose, turned around and gave Riley a push that sent him flying. He landed on his back and hit his head against the wall.  
  
Buffy leapt to her feet, but her legs were stiff from sitting cross legged, so she stumbled and almost fell. “Riley,” she said. “That is not … I don't know who that is.”  
  
The strange girl frowned at Buffy and turned towards Xander. “Have you seen Buffy?” she asked him. “Did she come back?”  
  
Xander tilted his head and looked at her as though she was speaking to him in a foreign language.  
  
“What do you mean _have you seen Buffy?”_ Buffy said to the strange girl. “I am … we … you should know … Buffy.”  
  
Xander stood up. “Are you two feeling all right?” he asked Buffy and the girl. He walked over to Riley and helped him sit up. Riley was bleeding from the back of his head. “You pushed him pretty hard, Buffy,” Xander said. “We should take him to the ER.”  
  
“ _I_ am the real Buffy,” Buffy said.  
  
The strange girl turned and stared at her again. Seeing herself stand before her like this gave Buffy the wiggins. It was like looking at a mirror and suddenly seeing her reflection start to move of its own accord. The strange girl looked away from Buffy and moved her attention to herself. She traced her hands along her clothes, eventually moving to her head and putting her fingers through her hair. “I … I have curls,” she said. She pulled her hair forward to where she could see it. “Blonde curls!?”  
  
Buffy was struck by a sudden realisation. She looked down and noticed she was wearing a white and pink shirt that she did not recognise as her own. There was something odd about her hands, too. It was like they were smaller and paler.  
  
Xander was still cradling Riley in his lap. “Help me get him up, Buffy,” he said.  
  
The strange girl turned to look across her shoulder, as if she expected a third Buffy to be standing behind her. She looked back at Buffy. “Am I Buffy?” she asked.  
  
“Yes,” Buffy said. “But who am I?”  
  
“You're me,” the strange girl said.  
  
Xander and a dazzled Riley followed their conversation with looks of confused impatience.  
  
“Willow?” Buffy asked, looking deep into the strange girl's eyes, hoping to see a glimpse of her friend in there, which would have given her some reassurance.  
  
“Yes,” the strange girl said. “I am Willow … or at least, I'm supposed to be … I think.”  
  
“Can you two girls please calm down and come help me,” Xander said. He now had Riley's arm around his shoulder. Riley did not look as though he would be able to rise on his own.  
  
Buffy looked at him. “Do I have red hair?” she asked.  
  
“You're hair is fine, Willow,” Xander said to Buffy. Then he turned to the strange girl. “Buffy, can you please come help me get Riley on his feet?”  
  
Just then, Giles woke from his sleep with a loud snort. He sat up and squinted at the rest of them. “How cool was that,” he exclaimed. “We really kicked that demon cyborg thing's ass.” He coughed to clear his throat. “Man, my throat is all hoarse,” he said.  
  
“It could be worse,” the strange girl who Buffy could now clearly tell was Willow said. “At least you're still you.” It was uncanny seeing and hearing her body do such a perfect impression of Willow. “I mean, you didn't wake up with tits or anything.”  
  
“Bloody hell,” Xander said. He dropped Riley, who once again hit the wall behind him.  
  
“I know,” Willow said. “It's pretty freaky.” Then she noticed Riley. “Oh god! I didn't mean to push him like that.”  
  
Buffy ran over to Riley and knelt down beside him. “How are you feeling?” she asked. He looked at her and smiled bravely. She put her arm behind his back and tried to get him to his feet, but he was awfully heavy.  
  
“Maybe you should let Buffy help me,” Riley mumbled. He looked as though his eyes were about to roll back into his head.  
  
“Something is clearly very wrong here,” Xander said.  
  
“Don't look at me, Mister,” Willow said. “This was his idea,” she said and pointed Giles, who was still squinting glass-less-ly up at the rest of them.  
  
"Buffy,” Xander said. “That is not me.”  
  
“I am not Buffy,” Willow said. “I am Willow.”  
  
“What the hell are you two talking about?” Giles said. He tried to stand up, but without his glasses, he seemed to be having some difficulty. He struggled for a while, before falling back on his ass.  
  
“So you're Willow,” Xander said and pointed at the girl who looked like Buffy. “Then I guess that is Buffy,” he said and pointed at Buffy. “And I am lying over there,” he said and pointed at Giles, “then I am probably Xander.”  
  
“What are you talking about?” Giles said. He managed to get on his feet, blinking furiously. “And who is that speaking?”  
  
“I am confused,” Willow said. Her fingers were absent-mindedly twirling Buffy's long locks.  
  
“The spell we cast,” Xander said. “I should have known something like this could happen.” He put his hand to his head as if he was trying to take off invisible glasses, before he realised they weren't there. “We combined our essences into one collective consciousness, but when the spell ended, we were all put back into the wrong body.”  
  
Giles put his hand on his stomach. “I have a pot belly,” he said, “and I'm blind.”  
  
“Oh my god … Xander,” Willow said and put her palms to her cheeks. “You're Giles!?”  
  
“Stop overreacting,” Xander said. He knelt down, picked up the missing glasses and placed them on Giles's nose for him.  
  
The scream Giles made when he saw Xander, believing that he himself was Xander, but which he was able to see with the help of his glasses that he was not, was worse than anything Buffy had heard uttered by any vampire or demon.  
  
“This is … horrible,” Xander-as-Giles said once he calmed down, feeling his face with his hands … and discovering it was not his face at all.  
  
“I understand it must be a shock waking up in an older man's body,” Giles-as-Xander said in the British accent Buffy hadn't noticed until now. “I can assure you, however, that I am not any more happy about this than you are.”  
  
Xander-as-Giles put his hand on his forehead. “I have no hair,” he screamed.  
  
“You _have_ hair, Xander,” Giles yelled at him. “Just not a fringe.”  
  
“Hey guys,” Buffy-as-Willow said. “Riley just fell asleep. I think he is seriously hurt.” She was resting his head in her lap, having given up on trying to lift him.  
  
“If that even is Riley,” Willow-as-Buffy said. “He could be someone else. We don't know.”  
  
“He tried to kiss you, Will,” Buffy said. “I am pretty sure he is Riley.”  
  
“Why would Riley kiss me?” Willow said, before hitting herself on the head with her palm. “Of course, dummy. He thought you were Buffy.”  
  
Buffy frowned. “But I am Buffy. Ain't I?”  
  
Willow shook her hands. “No, no!” she said. “I mean, he thought you were still you in your own body.”  
  
“Don't make this more complicated than it has to be, Willow,” Giles-as Xander said.  
  
“At least I'm happy you've realised you don't like boys any more,” Buffy said to Willow. “Otherwise, I might get jealous.” She gave Willow a smile to let her know she was joking.  
  
Willow did a double take. “Right,” she said eventually. “Boys and their big bulgy muscles and sharp jaw-lines. Total bleah!”  
  
“Okey, guys, we need to get out of her,” Buffy said, “and we need to take Riley with us. Willow, I need you to carry him for me.”  
  
A smile spread across Willow's lips. “Can I really do that?” she asked. “Do I have super powers now?”  
  
“Calm down, Wonder Woman,” Buffy said. “It is only temporary. I hope.”  
  
Willow squatted down besides Riley and put her arms beneath him and lifted him up. “It is like carrying a little baby,” she said and shook Riley's unconscious body.  
  
“Watch you back,” Buffy said. “You're not invulnerable.”  
  
“Right,” Willow said. “As if I haven't seen you survive all sorts of stuff.” She made a quick turn, but lost her balance half-way and toppled over, landing on her back with Riley's limp body on top of her.  
  
Buffy looked down at her. “You may be strong,” she said, “but you still need to take care carrying someone heavier than you.”  
  
Willow sighed. "This may all take some getting used to."  
  
****  
  
Somewhere else in the complex, Spike was waking up. He had been hit on the head by some beastie or other. The place was mostly deserted, except for the stinking corpses of bullet-ripped demons and the thorn off limbs and plucked torsos of unlucky soldier boys. Further down the corridor, he heard someone whimpering. He smelled the freshness of the whimperer's blood – human and alive. Neat.  
  
Spike made his way over. The bumps on his forehead pushed themselves out. It was the colonel. He lay pinned beneath the body of some unidentifiable creature-thing. The colonel barked at him, telling Spike to stay away. Spike smiled and licked his fangs, then he plunged forward to plant them on the colonel's neck.  
  
Pain! Spike pulled back and held his temples. His head was ringing, as all his neurons fired at once. When Spike came to, he could smell that the colonel had expired. Most vampires frowned upon feeding off corpses. Feeding was supposed to be about the rush of the kill as much as the sustenance. But the blood was still warm, and Spike was hungry. Delicious human blood. He crawled over to the colonel and bit into his throat. It was nice to have something else than pig. Nice? Bloody amazing, more like.  
  
Once he was sated, Spike found his way back to the main hall of the complex. He caught a glimpse of the Scoobies exiting towards the surface. Buffy was carrying her soldier boy lover in her arms. Was it too much to hope for that that pounce was dead?  
  
Spike waited until he was sure that they were far ahead of him, before following after. No matter what it took, he would have his revenge on them. He would find some way to beat the chip and then he would suck the juices right from the slayer's thorn out brain stem.  
  
****  
  
Meanwhile, Graham and the two surviving members of his team were driving quickly down a road leading out of Sunnydale. Suddenly, a woman appeared on the road before them. Graham hit the brakes, but it was too late. When the car had come to a halt, Graham could not see her anywhere. One of the other soldiers pointed his torch out the window.  
  
“I did not see her,” Graham said.  
  
“We should check on her, then get the hell out of her,” one of the other soldiers said.  
  
Graham exited the car. There were some blood on the hood. The woman was still nowhere to be seen. He took out his torch and pointed it towards the forest and discovered her lying just off the road. Her frail body was oddly contorted, as if she had broken every one of her bones.  
  
“Call 911,” Graham instructed his fellow soldiers.  
  
“We can call from the car,” one of the soldier answered. “We need to move, Graham.”  
  
“Are you insane?” Graham walked over to where the woman lay. He squatted down beside her and held his fingers to her throat. No pulse. “She's dead,” he said.  
  
“Then we go,” his friends said to him.  
  
“You go,” Graham said. “I … I need to stay with her.”  
  
One of the soldiers came up to him. “Graham, we will be court-marshalled if we fail to show up for debriefing or get ourselves compromised.”  
  
Graham was about to say that he did not care, when the woman suddenly opened her eyes and sat up. “Oh my,” Graham exclaimed. “Are you all right, ma'am?”  
  
“I'm spinning,” the woman said.  
  
“You should lay down, ma'am,” Graham said.  
  
The woman looked at him. Her shining eyes were positively bulging out of their sockets. “You are a very pretty boy,” she said.  
  
“Oh no,” Graham heard one of his fellow soldier's say from behind him. “This does not look good.”  
  
Graham ignored him. “What is your name, ma'am?” he said.  
  
“My prince,” the woman said. “I am looking for my little prince.” Her head slowly rotated back and forth atop her long neck. “Is he here?” Her catlike eyes scanned the forest around them.  
  
Graham turned towards the other soldiers. “Have anyone called 991, yet?” Then he felt a sharp pain. The woman had grabbed him and sunk her teeth into his earlobe. He jabbed her in the gut with his elbow and managed to shake himself free. He rolled onto his back in the grass. In moments, the woman had leapt astride him. A piece of bleeding flesh lay between her sharp teeth.  
  
“Don't fret, kitten,” she cooed at him, letting the piece-of-ear fall from her mouth. “Mommy will take the pain away.”  
  
The other soldiers ran to the car for their guns, but before they could make it, Graham felt sharp fangs tear up the arteries leading to his brain … and very soon, the light of his life went out.

 


	2. Growing Pains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tara helps Willow come to terms with her predicament, Xander whines and Spike smokes a cigarette and runs into an old flame.

Willow passed the tarot cards to Xander and Giles and recited the prayer. "Last to ancient first, we invoke thee. Grant us thy domain and primal strength. Accept us in the power we possess. Make us mind and heart and spirit joy. Let the hand encompass us. Do thy will." The familiar surge of power passed through her body. The tingling started at the base of her spine and rose to break out through her scalp. She felt weightless. She was aware of movement, but when she reached out at the darkness, she could not see or feel her arms or legs. She saw glimpses of memories that were not her own. Anya's face. Olivia sipping a pint of Guinness. A giant praying mantis. A hand pulling something out of its pants. A spear entering the gut of a lion. Then suddenly it felt as though something grabbed her by the collar and yanked her back. When she opened her eyes, Adam the Frankensteinian monster stood before her.  
  
It all happened so fast. Bullets. Rocket. Doves. Her body moved of its own accord. Adam tried to grab her, but she avoided his arms with ease. Voices were speaking inside her head. One of them was her own. She could not make out what they were all saying. It was simply too much. She saw her hand disappear into Adam's gut and pull out his power centre. She held it up and looked at it and wonder at the pathetic-ness of a living creature drawing its strength from a simple battery.   
  
Then the voices fell silent. All the strength disappeared from her body. She felt her consciousness slip. Someone grabbed her. She could feel her body being held by strong arms.  
  
“Wake up,” a voice called her.  
  
Willow opened her eyes. Someone was hugging her. He was pressing her to his cheek, so that she could not turn to look at him. She put her hands on him and tried to push him away. He quickly relented, but as soon as she was free of him, she found herself struggling to stand on her own. She wanted to barf. The recent excitement had made her sea sick.  
  
“Are you okay?” the man said.  
  
Willow rubbed her eyes. The man before her was Riley. He looked concerned. “Yes,” she said. “I think I am.” She coughed into her hand. Her voice sounded strange.  
  
Riley's mouth parted into a big grin. He swung his arms around her and put one of his big hands on the back of her head and another in the small of her back and drew her in for kiss. She was too dazed and astonished to pull away.  
  
“I was sure we were all gonna die,” Riley said and looked at her with an expression of such earnest joy that Willow was almost moved.  
  
“Oh, well,” Willow said. “I guess I can understand that. This is probably your first big apocalypse. You see, this is not my first night at the rodeo.” She looked down at Adam's disembowelled body. “Does this even count as an apocalypse, though? It was just as much work, I guess.”  
  
“I get it,” Riley said. “You've been doing this a long time. No biggie for the famous slayer and her pals.”  
  
Willow gave him a punch in the arm. “Chin up, champ,” she said. “We'll make a Scooby out of you, yet.”  
  
An awkward silence followed. Riley looked as though he was thinking of moving towards her again, so Willow backed away to a safe distance.  
  
“Where are the others?” Willow asked.  
  
“Your friends?” Riley said. “I don't know. I assumed you came here by yourself.”  
  
Willow raised an eyebrow. “Me? By myself? Sure!” She looked around and found the door leading out. “Let's go this way,” she said. “I am sure the others are not far away.”  
  
She started moving towards the door. Riley followed close behind. Very close. She looked over her shoulder and gave him a nervous smile, hoping he would take the hint and give her some space. Riley just beamed back at her, as if going spelunking with her through the ruins of a military complex was the most exiting thing he could ever imagine himself doing. Willow decided to ignore him and started marching down the corridor, but soon, she felt Riley's large hands on her shoulders. She kept up her pace, hoping that it would put him off trying to draw her in for another embrace, and walked into a new room, where she was able to shake him off.  
  
Later that evening, Willow would not be able to quite remember how she had reacted to what she saw when they entered the room and found the rest of her friends. This was the room in which they had cast the spell, and it was where she had expected to wake up once the spell was finished. Giles and Xander were still there … and so was she. She was sitting there. Willow was inside the room … already.  
  
Willow closed her eyes and tried to process it all. On the floor before her sat a girl that looked just like herself. Furthermore, she was sitting in the spot that Willow had expected to wake up in.  
  
“You … you look like me,” the girl who looked like Willow said to Willow.  
  
Willow opened her mouth to speak, but she had no idea what to say. She wanted to agree with the girl and say that, _yes, we do indeed look just the same,_ but she had the feeling that there was something more to this that she might be missing. Just then, Riley grabbed her, spun her around and planted his wet lips on her forehead. Willow pushed him as hard as she could, and to her surprise, Riley went flying through the room and collided into the opposite wall. She had not intended to push that hard. She didn't know she  _could_ push that hard. She had practically _thrown him_ at the wall.  
  
The other Willow jumped up and said something that Willow was not quite able to make out. Willow ignored her. She couldn't deal with her yet. She had noticed that Buffy was not present. She turned to Xander and asked him if he knew where she were. Xander gave her the strangest look, and for a moment, he did not look like Xander at all. The other Willow turned to her and babbled something about Buffy that made no sense to Willow. Then the other Willow started claiming that _she_ was Buffy, which did not make much sense either, until things slowly started to dawn on the actual Willow. She realised her clothes were not her own and her hands had … pigment … in them. She stroked her palms over her face, which felt normal, but when her fingers found her hair, she noticed that something was wrong. She had long thick curls. She had never had curls before.  
  
She looked at the other Willow and said, “Am _I_ Buffy?”  
  
The other Willow could confirm that Willow was indeed now Buffy. What more, it turned out that Xander was now Giles and Giles was Xander. Riley, who had so desperately wanted to hug and kiss her was probably himself, but it was difficult to confirm, seeing that he was now drifting in and out of consciousness. With that confusion sorted, the gang decided it was best to move out as quickly as possible and find some help for Riley. And so, Willow, who was now Buffy, Buffy, who was now Willow, Xander, who was now Giles and Giles, who was now Xander, all set out for the surface. Willow was tasked with carrying Riley, because, as Buffy, she was now the strongest of the group.  
  
“We need to find a cure for this,” Xander said, speaking through Giles's lips.  
  
“We will figure something out, Xander,” Giles said from Xander's body. “For now, let's all try to be happy that we are in fact all still alive.”  
  
“But for how much longer?” Xander said. Willow looked back at him. She had never seen Giles quite this flustered before. She had seen Xander this flustered, but he had been wearing his own body at the time. “You need to do something, Willow,” Xander said and put his hand on the other Willow's shoulder. “What if Giles decides he likes being young?”  
  
The other Willow frowned at him. “I am Buffy,” she said.  
  
Xander moved away from her. “Right,” he said, though his expression suggested that this reminder had done nothing to clear things up for him.  
  
“I can hear you, Xander,” Giles said. “In fact, I can hear much better than you can right now.”  
  
“Listen to him,” Xander said to Buffy, perhaps still believing on some level that she was Willow. “There is no way he is gonna wanna give this up.”  
  
Willow faced forward and tried to ignore them. She looked down at Riley. He did not weigh much, but he was terribly large. She had to be careful not to let him roll off her arms. Other than that, it was just like cradling a sleeping babe. She really hoped she had not caused any lasting trauma to his brain. He really was one of the smartest TAs on campus.  
  
The Initiative soldiers had left the staircase open when they evacuated, so the Scoobies had no problem making their way out. Xander complained that Giles's legs were too long and stiff to walk the steps in. Giles made a show of running up ahead, which made Xander grumble all the more. Willow was worried that Xander was really freaking out. Worrying about Xander kept her from freaking out herself. Interestingly, Xander's grumbling face was much like Giles's grumbling face, so maybe there was some hope he would be able to maintain the charade should the condition prove long lasting ... she did not even want to think the word 'permanent.'  
  
When they came into the fraternity house, they found Tara waiting for them, but instead of going towards Willow, she ran straight at Buffy and locked her in a tight embrace. After a while, Willow could see that Buffy tried to wriggle herself free, but Tara was stronger than her.  
  
“I was so worried,” Tara said into Buffy's _Willow-ear,_ so low that Willow herself could hardly hear it.  
  
“Erm … Tara,” Buffy said. “We need to explain something to you. I'm not actually Willow.”  
  
Tara eased her hold on Buffy and pulled away. “What do you mean, sweetie?”  
  
Buffy took a step back. “We … something happened,” she said. “That is now Willow,” she said and pointed at Willow.  
  
Tara turned and looked at Willow then back at Buffy. “I don't get it.”  
  
“It's like what happened with Faith and me,” Buffy said. “Our … we got mixed.”  
  
“I'm Giles,” Xander suddenly screamed and punched himself in the chest with his thumb. Of course, it was Giles's thumb thumping Giles's chest, so naturally, Tara looked even more confused.  
  
“What he means when he says that,” Buffy said, “is that he is actually Xander, but he is now in Giles's body.”  
  
“But not for long,” Xander said and moved over to Tara, putting an arm around her. “We have a witch. A witch who is completely herself. She has done body swaps before, yes?” He looked at her like one of those creepy spin doctors on _The West Wing.  
  
_ “Oh my,” Tara said. “This will take some time to work out.” She put her hand on Xander's temple. “I can't feel anything being wrong. You feel like you're you.”  
  
“What?” Xander yelled. “Something is definitely wrong.” He lifted his arms and jumped in front of Tara. “Does this look right to you?”  
  
Tara shook her head. “I can't sense anything wrong with your aura,” she said. “I need, Wi— ” She realised she was looking at the wrong one and turned towards the actual Willow. “I … we need to work this out together.”  
  
Willow had found herself completely unable to speak during this whole exchange. Now that Tara was looking at her, she found that it made her terribly uncomfortable, as if she had showed up at a job interview wearing an inappropriate outfit or something. Before she could regain her bearings, Riley rolled off her arms and fell face down to the floor.  
  
“Willow,” Buffy yelled. “That is how many times now?”  
  
She ran over to Riley. To Willow, is what like an out-of-body experience of seeing herself rushing to somebody's aid. She tried to say that she was sorry, but she was completely tongue-tied. Giles and Tara joined Buffy around the unconscious Riley. Tara inspected his wounds and whispered a healing mantra into his ear. Giles declared that he would go get his car. Buffy slapped Riley's cheeks, trying to get him to wake up again. Riley's nose was blowing bloody bubbles, which if nothing else, proved he was still alive.  
  
Five minutes later, Buffy and Giles had driven away with Riley. Willow and Xander remained in the fraternity house and were soon rejoined by Tara. Willow looked away, unable to meet Tara's eyes, but when Tara put a hand on Willow shoulder, Willow quickly swung her other arm around Tara's neck and pulled her in for a hug.  
  
“I am so confused,” Willow said into Tara's sweater.  
  
“I get it, sweetie,” Tara said and patted Willow on the back, just like she used to. “We will figure it out.”  
  
“What do you have to complain about, Will?” Xander said. “You get to be Buffy, which means that you have super powers ... I'm … _I'm Giles!”  
  
_ Willow pulled away from Tara. “It is not that simple,” she said to Xander.  
  
“What?” Xander scoffed. “You're still a girl, aren't you?” He looked down at himself. “How will I explain this to Anya?”  
  
“Perhaps we should get out of here,” Tara said. “There may be monsters or army men lurking about.”  
  
Willow nodded. She took Tara's hand and let her lead her outside. Xander followed behind them, still grumbling incoherently under his breath. The campus was deserted. Most students knew that the parks were dangerous at night and would move quickly and in groups, but right now, Willow was too upset to be afraid of the dark. As they approached the dorm building, they noticed a hunched figure on the path. Willow narrowed her eyes and realised that the figure was leaning over a body on the ground.  
  
“It is a vampire,” Tara whispered.  
  
Xander adjusted his glasses. “Where?”  
  
The figure rose up and moved towards them. When he came closer, Willow saw that he had blood trickling down his chin. She looked to Tara and realised that both she and Xander had retreated behind her.  
  
“Get him,” Xander whispered into her ear.  
  
“What?” Willow said.  
  
“Should we run?” Tara said.  
  
“Nonsense,” Xander said. “It's just one vampire.”  
  
“Are you expecting me to just slay him?” Willow said. She tried to feel around for weapons, but Buffy's pockets were too tight to fit their dorm room key into.  
  
“You've slayed vampires as yourself,” Xander said. “Surely, it should be easy now that you're Buffy.”  
  
Willow looked towards the vampire. His fangs glistened in the faint light from the street lamp behind them. Willow screamed. The vampire grabbed her shoulders and pulled her towards itself. Willow put her arms on his chest and pushed at him. The vampire dropped her and fell backwards on its ass.  
  
“Good job,” Tara said from behind Willow somewhere.  
  
With increased confidence, Willow ran forward and kicked the vampire in its jaw. He roared in pain. She was going to land him another one, but the vampire grabbed her foot and spun her around in the air, throwing her onto her back. Before she knew what had happened, he was upon her, frothing at the mouth. Willow screamed and closed her eyes in anticipation of the bite, but the bite never came. Tara and Xander were both pulling at the vampire's funeral suit jacket. Willow pulled her knees up to her chest and managed to give the vampire a kick in the stomach that sent him, Tara and Xander all flying backwards. After that, the vampire seemed to have lost its appetite and scampered off into the shadows.  
  
Tara helped Willow to her feet. “You were amazing, sweetie,” she said.  
  
“Are you serious?” Xander said. “She was awful! We had to do half the fighting ourselves.” He put a hand on his heart. “I am almost out of breath from that exertion.” His face twisted in fear. “What if Giles has a heart attack? Will I die?”  
  
Willow glared at him. She wished he would just shut up. “Can you zip it, please, Mister?” she said. “Giles never complains that much.”  
  
“Giles has had a lot of time getting used to being old,” Xander said.  
  
Willow turned away from him. “I need to go home, Tara,” she said. “To your place, I mean.” She pleaded with her eyes, hoping Tara would realise how close she was to a full on panic attack.  
  
Tara nodded. They all started moving again. When they reached the dorm, they found Buffy waiting for them.  
  
“We need to get you back in your body, Buffy,” Xander said to her. “Your replacement sucks.”  
  
“He's been yammering like that the whole way,” Willow said. “A vampire jumped us and I had to fight him.” She glared daggers at Xander. “I think I did all right.”  
  
“Thank God you're okay,” Buffy said.  
  
“How is Riley?” Tara asked.  
  
“He will be fine,” Buffy said. “Giles is with him. I doubled back her to find you, because we need to work out … what to do with each other's bodies.”  
  
“What do you mean?” Xander said. “We're all gonna be put back into our own selves now, aren't we?”  
  
Tara looked at Willow. “I think Will might need a night's rest before we get to work,” she said. “To be honest, this might take a while to figure out.”  
  
Buffy sighed. “I kinda figured that. I mean … Giles said as much. There is one thing I need you to do, Will,” she said. “You need to let my mum know I'm all right.”  
  
“What?” Willow said.  
  
“She knows we went after Adam tonight,” Buffy said. “She is probably worried sick.”  
  
Willow put an arm around Tara. “I am not going anywhere tonight,” she declared.  
  
Buffy sighed. “Fine,” she said. “But you need to call her for me and tell her that I'll be staying with Riley tonight. She is going to insist that you come home tomorrow.”  
  
“Why can't you call?” Willow said.  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes and adopted a voice that was more suited to instructing a five year old. “Because I can't imitate my own voice when I'm you,” she said. Then her expression softened and she put a hand on Willow's shoulder. “Please,” she said. “Call her tonight and tell her you'll be by tomorrow.”  
  
Willow agreed, if only so that she and Tara could finally retreat upstairs. Buffy dragged Xander along with her and Tara lead Willow up the stairs to her room. When they came inside and Tara turned on the lights, Willow noticed that there were several unlit candles placed around the room. On the bed lay three folded towels and a bottle of massage oil.  
  
“I was thinking we could do a spell when you got back,” Tara said as way of explanation. “I guess maybe we shouldn't now.”  
  
Willow caught a glimpse of Buffy's reflection in the mirror on Tara's wall. It was so strange to see her friend staring back at her like that, mimicking her every move. “Tara, I can't,” she said.  
  
Tara looked at her with concern. “What do you mean, sweetie?”  
  
“I can't be here,” Willow said. “I can't be her with you and be Buffy. It is too confusing.”  
  
“Hey, baby.” Tara stroked Willow's arm. “This is just a thing … a thing that you and I are gonna deal with. Tomorrow, we will figure out how to make you into you again.” She gave Willow that crooked smile that Willow loved. “You're not gonna run off with Riley now, are you?”  
  
Willow shook her head. “He's been kinda handsy ever since … this,” she said. “I didn't like it.”  
  
They sat down on the bed and talked for a while. Not about what was happening. They just talked in general, and it was Tara doing most of the talking. Willow was grateful she did not have to be the one carrying the conversation. Once Willow had calmed down, she realised how sleepy she was, so they decided they should go to bed. Tara reminded Willow that she still needed to call Buffy's mum, so Willow went to the phone, while Tara changed into more comfortable sleepwear.  
  
Willow did not have to wait more than a second before Joyce answered, which made her feel bad for not calling right away. “Hi, Ms. Summers,” she said, trying her best to sound like Buffy. Tara's horrified expression made Willow aware that she had already messed up. “Mum, I mean,” Willow continued. “Hi, mum. Isn't it weird how I am the only one who calls you that?”  
  
After such a horrible start, it took a bit of work for Willow to convince Joyce that Buffy was truly all right. In fact, Willow wasn't sure if she had succeed at all. As Buffy had guessed, Joyce would have preferred to have her daughter home right away, but she calmed down after Willow promised that she … Buffy … would be by some time tomorrow.  
  
“You need to work on your acting skills,” Tara said after Willow had hung up the phone.  
  
“I don't want to,” Willow said. “I am struggling with my Willow skills as it is.”  
  
Tara gave Willow another impish smile. “I think your Willow skills are up to par,” she said. “At least, I know _I_ haven't had any better.”  
  
Willow ignored her and got ready to change into her pyjamas. “I knew there was something,” she exclaimed, as she was unbuttoning Buffy's pants. “I've had this wedgie ever since the Freaky Friday spell.” She pulled Buffy's pants down to her thighs. They were so tight she was practically peeling them off her sweaty skin. “It's these borderline pornographic panties Buffy wears. They're riding up my … well … they chafe.” She turned around and showed Tara how Buffy's buttocks swallowed up her underwear. “I mean, what self respecting person would wear these?”  
  
“I don't know,” Tara said. “I guess I could see someone wear those for their girl—boyfriend. I ... I guess Riley must like them.”  
  
“I hate this,” Willow said and was surprised at how angry she sounded. “I hate all of this.” She kicked herself out of Buffy's pants and retreated into Tara's closet, where she closed the door, before changing out of Buffy's ridiculous dental floss underwear into a pair of snug boy shorts and put on her own pink leopard pajamas. When she came out again, Tara was looking at her with so much concern that Willow just wanted to retreat back into the closet again … the literal one.  
  
“Talk to me, sweetie,” Tara said. “Tell me how you're feeling.”  
  
“How I'm _feeling?”_ Willow said. Again, it came out louder than she thought she had intended. “This is horrible! There's no better way to describe it!”  
  
“It is fixable,” Tara said. “You won't stay like this forever.”  
  
“I don't care,” Willow said. “I wish it hadn't happened at all.” She crossed her arms and looked away. “Xander's right. This is awful!”  
  
“Why is it so bad?” Tara asked.  
  
Willow found that once she started to answer the words just came flooding out. “Well, imagine if that when you were younger, you were not the most popular girl in school, and then you meet this glamorous and self assured girl from the big city who seems to be everything you are not, but for some reason, she wants to be your friend,” she said, “and then you try all you can to be just a little bit like her … and then just when you start feeling like being yourself is okay, and you have a spanking new girlfriend, who is wonderful and who makes you think that there is more to you than just being slayerette #2, you do a spell and _poof …_ you literally turn into that girl you always wanted to be like … and now that is all your girlfriend is gonna see when she looks at you and you don't know how to deal with it, and you don't know how you're gonna deal once you're just poor old run-of-the-mill friendly-neighbourhood Will again.”  
  
Tara smiled and seemed completely unfazed. Willow could not comprehend how she could be so calm about it all. “I understand,” Tara said, “but there is a lot more to you than the length of your hair or whether or not you have super powers. You're Willow. You're mine! I don't want some supposed hot shot from LA.”  
  
“You sure?” Willow said, and Tara nodded in affirmation, clearly signalling with the whole of herself that everything would work out. “But,” Willow exclaimed, turning away again. “What about tomorrow? I can't go to Ms. Summer and pretend I'm Buffy! She'll see right through me.”  
  
Tara took Willow's hand and led her onto the bed. “It will work out, you'll see,” she said. “I'll be with you. You can make it work. You'll be taking drama next year, won't you? Look at this as your debut.” She placed a calming palm on Willow's cheek. “And don't worry about forgetting how to be Willow. If you do, I'll remind you.” Then she pulled Willow close, and Willow tried to focus on how good it was to feel Tara's lips press against her own, and tried her best to forget that her lips were in fact not her own at all, and that Tara was pressing her wet tongue into what was really her best friend's mouth and...  
  
… Willow spent most of the night awake.  
  
****  
  
Spike had one sole on the wall he was leaning back against. A fag lay loosely between his lips. It burned out, but he was too distracted by his thoughts to notice that the plunging ashy tip had gone dark. “They're gone,” he said to no-one in particular. “Adam, the soldier boys, the white robed doctors … all of them.”  
  
A hobo pulled the newspaper from his face. “Sssh!” he said. “They're always listening. Never think that they are gone.” The man had been sleeping against a garbage bag that probably contained all of his spare clothes.  
  
Spike squatted down beside him and handed him a fag from his pack. “Here,” he said. “From one lost sailor to another.” The man accepted and Spike flipped his zippo to light it.  
  
“I'm not lost,” the man said. “Hiding, perhaps, but not lost.” He looked around. “And they're never far away.”  
  
“Right...” Spike stood up and started walking down the street, but a girl came running round the corner and collided straight into him. He tried to push her out of the way, but she clung to him, clearly too panicked to communicate what the matter was.  
  
“Help,” was the only word Spike heard.  
  
Was it a beastie? Spike would love to kill a beastie, and maybe if he saved this bird, she would be so grateful, she would bleed herself voluntarily. He lowered the girl's hands and moved past her. Whatever could be behind that corner? He heard the sharp _click, clack_ of thin heels upon pavement. A woman turned the corner. Not a girl … though she looked just as young as the girl who had fled from her … a woman … _the only woman._ Drusilla herself came strolling right up to him, absentmindedly scratching a bit of coagulated blood on her chin.  
  
“She killed my friend,” Spike heard the scared girl say from behind him. She started tugging at his arm.  
  
Drusilla did not say anything. She merely gazed past Spike's shoulder … at the girl behind him … and then she pointed towards a darkened park across the street. Spike knew what she expected of him. He swallowed and turned back to the girl, who looked at him with an expression of first relief … but then confusion.  
  
“Don't worry, pet,” Spike said to her, bringing out his vampiric features. “It will all be okay.”  
  
The girl screamed and tried to run, but she stumbled on her heels, and Spike was on her before she had even managed to turn around. He held her by her arms and tried to bring his fangs down on her neck, but the chip fired pulses of pain into his central nervous system that caused his whole body to convulse. The girl screamed and fought to free herself, but he held on to her arms, despite the pain. They stumbled, and she fell, pulling Spike with her. They rolled around in the dust for a while, until Spike managed to pin her down beneath the weight of his body. The pain was indescribable. He could hardly see, and his muscles would twist and spasm as though he was suffering an epileptic fit. He could not even hear the girl's screams anymore, but after a while, he managed to sniff and feel his way to her neck and press his teeth down on her flesh. The pain remained, but the chip had already shown him its worst. The girl was dying and he was drinking her blood. He had won.  
  
When he stood up, the pain was mostly gone. The soreness and headache was negligible. It seemed to good to believe, but he was convinced the chip had burned out … overloaded. He squatted down and picked up the woman in his arms. With his returning vision, he saw her head bounce on her limp neck … and the river of blooding running down it.  
  
He had to hold his excitement … play it cool. He wanted to call out to Drusilla, but instead, he simply carried the girl with him across the street to where he saw her waiting for him … silently observing … hopefully pleased.  
  
****  
  
The next day, Tara and Buffy, who was wearing an ankle long skirt and a woolly cardigan over a tie-die t-shirt, walked up the path to the Summers' residence.  
  
“Will you be all right, sweetie?” Tara said to Buffy, who looked as unlike herself as she possibly could, which was natural, seeing that she was in fact Willow.  
  
“I don't know,” Willow said. “Would you believe I was Buffy?”  
  
Tara looked at her discerningly. “Maybe we shouldn't have crimped your hair,” she said finally. “She kinda looks like she's had a bit of a make-over … the day after taking down the Big Bad. Maybe as a way of celebrating.” She smiled what had probably been supposed to be a confidence-inspiring smile.   
  
“Oh God,” Willow said. “We're so stupid.” She pulled at her rainbowy shirt. “We should have gone back to my room and taken some of Buffy's clothes. I'm sure Joyce has seen me in this.”  
  
“It's all right,” Tara said. “Just be calm. Her mum's not gonna care about your clothes. You're roommates. I'm sure you borrow each other's clothes all the time. You're practically the same size.”  
  
Willow shook her head. “Nobody borrows Buffy's clothes,” she said. "It's an only child's thing."  
  
“It's not as though my brother and I swapped clothes either,” Tara said. “Come on, you'll be fine. I'm here.”  
  
They had reached the end of the path and stepped onto the porch. The door loomed before them.  
  
“So,” Tara said. “Do we ring the doorbell or do we just go in?”  
  
“We...” Willow looked at her. “We go in, right? It's Buffy's house. I'm Buffy!”  
  
“I was just thinking,” Tara said. “She doesn't actually live here any more. Would she maybe ring before she entered?”  
  
Willow felt the colour leave her face. “I don't know,” she said. “How would I know? I'm hardly here any more.”  
  
“Maybe she rings the bell, just before she goes in,” Tara said, “just to let her mum know she's here … but not actually waiting for her mum to open.”  
  
Just then, the door opened by itself and they were greeted by Joyce. First, she smiled warmly at Willow, then she noticed Tara and then she looked somewhat confusedly down at Willow and Tara's interlocked hands.  
  
“Hello,” Joyce said and extended her arm to Tara. “I don't believe we have met before.”  
  
Tara started to shake her arm, and it took several awkward moments before Willow realised that she was trying to free her hand. Willow quickly released her slayer-strength grip.  
  
“Hi, Ms. Summers,” Tara said, shaking Joyce's hand profusely and smiling her shy and slightly awkward smile at her. “I'm T—Tara.” The stammer was always more pronounced when she introduced herself to new people.  
  
“Are you one of Buffy's...?” Joyce's asked without finishing the question.  
  
Tara looked to Willow for support. “One of Buffy's?”  
  
Joyce nudged Willow and made a hand motion, mimicking Buffy raising a stake.  
  
“Oh ...” Tara said. “No ... no, I'm not a monster fighter. I'm just a ...”  
  
“... friend,” Willow said. “She's just a friend … of the group.”  
  
Joyce smiled. Willow and Tara smiled back at her. It was a smile-fest. They were all smiling too much. Willow quickly relaxed her mouth.  
  
“Well come in,” Joyce said, stepping away from the doorway. “Bring a plate for … Tara, was it? … to the dinner table and I'll go heat our lunch.”  
  
Willow took Tara's hand and squeezed it tight, as they stepped over the threshold together. Tara signalled with her eyes that Willow was squeezing too hard.

 


	3. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bringing your special someone to meet the parents can be scary, especially if the parents are not your own. Also, Dawn comes early today.

Willow stepped into Buffy's house, wearing Buffy's skin and holding Tara's hand in a clammy embrace. In her mind, she still looked like herself. Even after having spent a long time back at Tara's looking at Buffy's reflection in the mirror, she still wasn't able to process that that was what people now saw when they looked at her. Her voice sounded odd when she spoke. She definitely didn't sound like herself, but she wasn't quite able to make herself sound like Buffy either, though she wasn't sure if that was simply because voices sound different when heard from inside your own head … like if you record your own voice and play it back, it sounds weird to you … and if you put your consciousness into your friend's head and try to speak out her mouth, it sounds even weirder.  
  
Looking at her, it seemed to Willow as if Joyce may have been just a little put off by Willow's general awkwardness, as well as her failure to either open the front door herself or ring the doorbell. It occurred to Willow now that Joyce had probably been watching from the window, anxiously waiting for Buffy to come home after having slain this year's big bad. She had probably watch Willow and Tara stalling on the porch. It bothered Willow more than a little that her own mother didn't even know she had been in danger last night. She squeezed Tara's hand even tighter. It was fine, she told herself. Girls hold hands, don't they? Thinking about it, she couldn't remember ever holding Buffy's hand, but she had seen other non-gay girls do it … or maybe they were conspicuous secret-gays. It didn't matter. Feeling a strong need to keep Tara close, she convinced herself it was best to hide in plain sight. Then she remembered holding Buffy's hand while walking through the streets after they'd lost their voices that day. That decided it for her. Buffy was totally someone who would hold hands with a regular friend-friend.  
  
“This is a very nice house,” Tara said, drawing Willow's attention to the fact that nobody had been speaking for way too long.  
  
“Thank you,” Joyce said. “I was shocked I could afford it. This neighbourhood is less costly than you'd think. It's probably because of all the vampires and robot men.”  
  
“Robot men?” Tara asked.  
  
“Oh, Buffy hasn't told you about them?” Joyce said. “I think they mostly go after more mature women, but a pretty young girl like you would probably be wise to take care. Beware of men with cookies and a conservative sense of decency.”  
  
“Got it,” Tara said.  
  
“I hope you don't mind eating old lasagne,” Joyce said, leaning down in front of the oven. “Tell you the truth, I've always thought lasagne tastes the best the second time around. Don't you agree?”  
  
Rather than answer this, Tara pulled Willow back towards the foyer. “I feel something,” she whispered, “from over there," she said and nodded towards the living room.  
  
“What?” Willow asked her.  
  
“A magical convergence,” Tara said. “Can't you sense it?”  
  
“Let's go check,” Willow whispered. “Tara wants to see the rest of the house, Ms. Summers,” she called over to Joyce and followed Tara into the living room. It looked just like it always had. She tried to centre her mind, but she felt no strange vibes in the air. She looked back at Tara. “Are you sure you...” she started.  
  
Tara cut her off. “Don't you see her?” she asked.  
  
“Who?”  
  
Tara pointed and Willow followed the direction of her finger. A young girl was sitting in one of the chairs with her knees up to her face, reading the latest Harry Potter book. She seemed totally engrossed in her reading and wore headphones that looked like fluffy earmuffs. Willow had never seen her before and started to freak out, because she realised Buffy would surely know who this was. It was probably a cousin or something.  
  
“Buffy,” Joyce called from the kitchen. “Can you tell Dawn to come help me?”  
  
Willow and Tara walked over to the mysterious girl. Willow wanted to wave her arm in front of her, but the way the girl's knees and book blocked her sight, it wasn't really possible. The only way to gain her attention was for Willow to poke her in the legs. The girl immediately looked up and shot her the most poisonous look. Willow mimicked herself removing a pair of earmuffs and the girl reluctantly lifted one side of her headphones, exposing parts of her right ear to conversation.  
  
“Dawn,” Willow said. “Your aunt wants you in the kitchen.”  
  
The girl frowned at her.  
  
“Dawn, come join me in the kitchen,” Joyce called.  
  
The girl sighed with all the force she could seemingly muster and literally threw both headphones and book to the floor. “Why am I the one who must help?” she said to Willow with contempt as she pushed her way past her. “I am here every day, helping.”  
  
Willow watched with disbelief as the girl walked over to the kitchen.  
  
“Why did you say aunt?” Tara asked her. “Joyce isn't Dawn's aunt … is she?” She looked genuinely confused.  
  
“How do you know?” Willow was about to ask, but then she remembered … Dawn. Of course. Buffy's little sister, who Willow had known almost as long as she had known Buffy herself. “I .. I don't know where my mind was,” she said to Tara as way of explanation.  
  
“I don't think I can feel the magical disturbance, any more,” Tara said. “I think it passed.”  
  
As they walked back towards the kitchen, the phone began to ring. Willow ignored it, but as they came into the kitchen, they were stopped by Dawn, who still glared when she looked at them. She was holding the lasagne with a pair of oven gloves. “Aren't you gonna take it?” she said with so much spite in her tone it made the air sour.  
  
Willow was kinda thrown. “What?” she asked.  
  
“Phone,” Dawn said, before sighing loudly and walking past them to the dining room.  
  
“Right...” Willow and Tara back-pedalled to the phone and Willow picked up the receiver, praying to Artemis that it was either someone she knew or someone Buffy didn't know. “Hello,” she said uncertainly.  
  
“Oh, thank God it's me,” a voice she recognised as her own answered.  
  
“Buffy,” Willow exclaimed, feeling relieved.  
  
“How's it going?” Buffy asked.  
  
“Horribly,” Willow said. “For a moment, I failed to recognise Dawn.”  
  
“Who's Dawn?” Buffy asked.  
  
“Er … your sister Dawn,” Willow said.  
  
“Right,” Buffy said. “I thought you said … nevermind. They don't suspect anything … Dawn or mum?”  
  
“I think Dawn's too willing to think you're stupid to suspect anything,” Willow said.  
  
“I should have gone there with you,” Buffy said, “but I had to go with Riley for his check up. Thanks for doing this alone. It means the world.”  
  
“I'm not alone,” Willow said. “Tara's here with me.”  
  
There was a few moments of silence. “You brought your girlfriend with you to my mum?” Buffy said, sounding either annoyed or alarmed.  
  
“What does that matter?” Willow said. “You bring friends around. I'm introducing your mum to a new friend. You and Tara are friends now, right?”  
  
“Sure,” Buffy said, “but considering that I haven't been home in almost two months, my mum might find it a little weird that I've picked this particular day to introduce her to a new friend.”  
  
“What day isn't a good day for meeting new friends?” Willow said.  
  
“I don't know,” Buffy said. “Maybe day-after-absentee-daughter-takes-on-her-most-dangerous-foe-yet day?” Willow thought she could somehow hear Buffy shaking her head in disbelief. “What have you said about her?”  
  
“Nothing,” Willow said. “I've certainly not insinuated that she's my special someone or anything.”  
  
Joyce popped her head out from the dining room. “Could you wrap it up, sweetie,” she said. “The lasagne's getting cold again.”  
  
“Coming Ms. … mum,” Willow said to her and turned back to the phone. “I have to go, Buffy.” She noticed Joyce creasing her forehead at this and bit her lip.  
  
“One more thing,” Buffy said. “This is kinda embarrassing, so please don't be angry. Riley and I … we kinda ran into your parents on the way to the hospital.”  
  
“My parents?” Willow said, realising she was once again speaking too loudly, but when she looked around the corner, she saw Joyce sitting back at the table. “Go to the table and watch her,” she said to Tara, before turning back to the phone. “How did that go?” she said into the receiver.  
  
“A little too good,” Buffy said. “They saw us kissing and were very intrigued. I think they see Riley as a very eligible young bachelor.”  
  
Willow dropped the phone and it swung into the wall by the cord. She fumbled to pick it up again. “Have you any idea how inconvenient this is?” Willow said, once the phone was to her ear again.  
  
“I'm sorry,” Buffy said. “It wasn't like we expected to run into them. Hold on, though. It gets worse. Your mother asked us over for dinner this evening.”  
  
“Please, Buffy, tell me you turned it down,” Willow said.  
  
“Well … I didn't _accept_ ,” Buffy said. “Riley did … after I had stared dumbfounded at your mum for two minutes, and she had repeated the offer … twice.”  
  
“Buffy, you can't go,” Willow said. “I'm serious … please.”  
  
“Don't worry, Will,” Buffy said. “I'll just tell your parents that Riley and I are dating casually … and then you can tell your mum you've broken up with him and come to terms with your gay-ness after we all get our bodies back.”  
  
“Dating casually?” Willow smacked herself in the forehead with the heel of her hand. “Do you realise that I was only allowed to date Oz, because I threatened to run off with him to LA and get a tattoo if she tried to stop me?”  
  
“You're in college, Will,” Buffy said. “What're you worried about?”  
  
Willow was about to tell her exactly what she was worried about, but she did not know where to start and before she got to it, she saw Dawn coming towards her, still bearing that same hostile scowl. “Mum says you need to come now,” Dawn said.  
  
“Just a minute, Dawnie,” Willow said. Dawn rolled her eyes, but before she went back to the dining room, she yanked the telephone cable from the wall, mumbling something about how hungry she was. Willow quickly re-plugged the phone, but realised that she had no idea which number Buffy had called from. In her frustration, she hit the phone against the wall, so hard that it broke in half. “Darn it,” she mumbled. She hadn't gotten used to her strength yet. She looked around for some tape, but when she did not find any, she stuck the phone back in its holster, which kept the two pieces together, making their separation less obvious.  
  
Once Willow joined the others at the table, she found that Joyce was well into quizzing poor Tara, who did her best to account for her and Buffy's friendship, which wasn't easy, considering that she and Buffy had hardly spoken a word to each other in the short time they had known each other.  
  
“There you are, Buffy,” Joyce said as Willow took her seat beside Tara. “How come you've never told me about Tara?” She laughed. “I guess I shouldn't be surprised. You haven't really told me much about college at all.”  
  
“I know who she is,” Dawn said through a mouthful on un-swallowed lasagne. “She's Willow's girlfriend,” she said once the lasagne was gone. “Aren't you?”  
  
“You're _Willow's_ friend?” Joyce asked.  
  
Dawn rolled her eyes and sighed loudly. “GIRLfriend,” she repeated. “As in a boyfriend that is a girl.”  
  
“Oh,” Joyce said. “How very modern.”  
  
“Oh, it's not something modern … or really new,” Tara said. “There is this island outside of Greece called Lesbos...”  
  
Willow nudged her in the side. “Maybe we can save the history lesson for some other time,” she said.  
  
The table fell silent for a while. Willow stuck her fork into her food and tried to balance something on it, but found it difficult.  
  
“So,” Joyce said, turning to Tara. “Has Buffy found herself a new boy … or girl … friend?”  
  
“Buffy's dating a boy named Riley,” Willow said quickly.  
  
Joyce stared at her for a moment, then blinked and said, “And when will Joyce get to meet this boy named Riley?”  
  
“Soon,” Willow said. “Soon-ish. He's gone home … for the summer … to Iowa … said he'd be gone for the holidays.” She laughed. "It was him on the phone, just now. Already misses me." She thought about it for a moment. "I told him I would be here today and gave him the number. We still call each other often. Throes of early romance and all that jazz!"  
  
Joyce shook her head. “Well, then you better tell him that he's expected to come by for a visit as soon as he gets back,” she said. Then she suddenly looked sad. “I don't want to be monster-mum, Buffy. I just … I want to feel like I have some sense of what your life is like.” She turned to Tara. “It was really nice that Buffy would bring _you_ , at least. I hope to see you and Willow back here many times.” She turned back to Buffy. “Where is Willow, by the way? I haven't seen her in ages. She came by to help Dawn with her homework a few weeks ago, but I can't remember the last time you brought her over.”  
  
“Willow is recovering from the stress of all the finals,” Willow said. “She'll probably be recovering for the next week or so.”  
  
Joyce frowned. “Finals?” she said. “Didn't she go with you to fight that Frankenstein-monster last night?”  
  
A nervous laugh burst from Willow lips. “Right! You'd think, right? But you know Willow. Always more worried about getting a bad grade than being gutted by some monster.”  
  
Joyce shook her head with a pained expression. “You know what, Buffy, I really wish you wouldn't talk like that. I know being in danger is part of your … calling, but I wish you wouldn't put it so crassly.” She took a moment to compose herself and then her smile was back. “So, tell me, Tara,” she said. “How did you and Willow meet each other.”  
  
“That's a great story, actually,” Tara said. “You remember when the whole town lost their voices? The monsters were chasing me, while I was looking for Willow, but then she showed up and saved me.”  
  
“That's not really how it happened, though, was it?” Willow said.  
  
“Sure it was,” Tara said. “They almost caught me, but then Willow used a spell to move the soda machine in front of the door.”  
  
“... but you cast that spell together, didn't you?” Willow said.  
  
“No, Willow cast it,” she said, looking confusedly at Willow.  
  
Willow put down her knife and fork. “See, the way Willow told it,” she said, “she tried to cast the spell herself, but then you took her hand and channelled some of your strength to help cast the spell.”  
  
Tara raised an eyebrow. “Well, then you should tell Willow that she remembers it wrong,” she said. “The first time Willow and I tried casting a spell together, we blew the petals off a rose.” She looked at Joyce. “If you're gonna blow something up in your room, a rose really isn't the worst thing.”  
  
Willow put a hand on Tara's. “Tara, I think you may be the one remembering it wrong,” she said. “Willow told me that she definitely felt you help her cast that spell.”  
  
Tara looked straight at her. “Buffy, I am telling you, I did not help Willow cast that spell,” she said. “I took Willow's hand, because I thought it might give Willow the confidence to unlock her true power … and if not … well … let's just say I would rather die holding the hand of a beautiful girl than huddling behind the tumble drier.”  
  
“Wouldn't we all,” Joyce said. “And you and Buffy have been friends almost as long?”  
  
“Well, here's the thing … mum,” Willow said. “Willow is a bit of a dummy. She didn't tell … me about Tara, until weeks later, because she didn't think I would be comfortable with her … Willow … having a boyfriend who was a girl.” She shook her head. “That Willow, I say. She claims to be smart, but I don't know.” She stopped talking and picked up her knife and fork again.  
  
“So, that means you two met not too long ago, then?” Joyce said. “And you've become such close friends already?”  
  
“Well,” Willow said. “Tara saved my life. She was the one who got me back into my own body after Faith came and snatched it.”  
  
Tara smiled at her. “Well, that spell we _did_ cast together,” she said.  
  
“Well, the way Willow tells it,” Willow said and looked deep into Tara's eyes, “her muscles were all contracting and spasming so violently that she had no idea what was happening while the spell lasted.” After she looked back across the table, she wondered if her tone of voice had been a little to revealing.  
  
“Wow,” Joyce said. “I don't know if that sounds painful or delightful.”  
  
“Mostly the latter,” Willow said, “though you can be feel a little stiff afterwards. It takes a lot out of you. Or at least, that's how Willow tells it.” She felt herself getting a little red, and being used to having the pastiest of skin, she assumed it was already visible. “Hey, wasn't that Faith thing the weirdest?”  
  
“I know,” Joyce said. “I had no idea it wasn't you in there, despite how weirdly you acted. You'd think a mother would be able to tell right away if something was off.”  
  
“You shouldn't blame yourself,” Willow said. “I didn't notice either.”  
  
Tara kicked Willow in the shin. “How did you become interested in African art, Joyce?” she asked.  
  
“Buffy, told you that?” Joyce said, looking happy as could be. “During all these years, Buffy's never shown an interest. I can't believe it would be something she would tell a friend about.”  
  
“I've always been fascinated with indigenous art,” Tara said. “It's not that it's naïve … it's just so much more real than contemporary art. It's about the important stuff, like childbirth, death, love and our relationship to nature.”  
  
What followed was an impassioned discussion of the merit of African versus Southern American indigenous art that Willow quickly zoned out of. It made her happy to see how easily her supposedly shy girlfriend got along with new people as soon as she got rolling. It was a mystery to her that it could have ever been hard for Tara to make friends. Still, Willow was not in the right state of mind to partake in a discussion of which tribe made the best fertility statues and how best to stylistically exaggerate the female anatomy. She told herself that opening her mouth with anything other than sarcasm in her voice would be breaking character. Dawn didn't seem to follow the conversation either. In fact, Dawn was looking intently at Willow, still what that frown on her face. She could not remember Dawn being this moody and confrontational. Dawn used to be the happiest little girl she had known … until hormones happened, she assumed.  
  
“Buffy, how do you calculate the length of the side of a right triangle, if you already know the other two?” Dawn suddenly asked out of nowhere.  
  
Willow was quite thrown by the question, but managed to both keep it together and think before she answered. “Well, gee, Dawn, that's a toughie,” she said, sounding nothing at all like the person she was supposed to be. “You know, you really should ask Willow about that, since I haven't opened a maths book in more than a year,” she said and added, “not that I really opened it much while I was still in high school.”  
  
Dawn folded her arms. “So, I'll ask Willow then,” she said, “when I see her.”  
  
****  
  
Buffy looked down at her plate. There was a crab on it. A whole crab. She was pretty sure it was dead, but she wouldn't be too surprised if it started walking across the table by itself. She wanted to poke it with her fork to make sure. Beside her plate was also a nutcracker and a mallet. She assumed she was meant to use them to break open the crab's shell somehow. Whenever she looked up, she was met by Sheila's discerning glare. Willow had been right. This was a terrible idea.   
  
“Wow,” Riley said from beside her. “I haven't had seafood in a long time.”  
  
He had put his napkin in his lap. Needing something to do, Buffy decided to do the same, but she pushed over her glass while unwrapping the thick cloth napkin. The glass rolled across the table in a half circle. Luckily, it had been empty.  
  
“Sorry,” Buffy said. She was immediately struck by how much she sounded like Willow just then.  
  
Riley quickly saved her glass. Sheila rolled her eyes at Buffy, as though such clumsiness was nothing more than she expected.  
  
“So, Riley,” Ira said, as he was filling Riley's glass. “What made you wanna date a Jewish girl?”  
  
Riley's wide smile faltered for only a moment. “I didn't wanna date a Jewish girl,” he said and looked at Buffy. “I wanted to date … Willow.”  
  
Sheila put her hand atop her husband's, as if to tell him that that was enough of that.  
  
“It's not like it's super serious or anything,” Buffy said, way faster and louder than she should have. She was starting to realise that this was a household where you did not rush to say what you were gonna say … you allowed for a pause after the last person had finish speaking.  
  
“It's very new,” Riley said to break the awkwardness. “I don't think Willow had planned to take me home to her folks just yet.”  
  
The classical music the Rosenbergs had playing in the background was presumable supposed to be calming, but the current clarinet solo was driving Buffy nuts.  
  
“She probably hadn't planned to bring you her at all,” Sheila said. “She likes to keep her secrets.”  
  
Buffy figured it was probably time she got started on her crab. Riley was already plucking the limbs off his like a psychopathic child on a school field trip to the beach. Considering her current lack of strength, Buffy decided she needed some extra leverage to open her own. She forewent the mallet, as it looked more suited to killing an animal than eating it, and decided to try her luck with the nutcracker. She locked it around the body of her crab and pressed down. As a result, the crabs shell exploded, sending pieces of its shell flying across the tablecloth and pushing the rest of the shell down into its meaty centre. It now looked like someone had driven across it with their bike. Her embarrassment was made all the worse by everyone's decision to ignore what she had one. She now had to pluck the shell out of the crab's meat so she could eat it.  
  
“So,” Ira said. “How did you and our Willow meet? Willow likes to tell us she spends all her time studying.”  
  
“I was the TA in her psychology class,” Riley said.  
  
“That's right,” Sheila said. “Willow told me she was taking psychology, probably looking for some sort of validation from her mother. The man who taught that class … Paddy Walsh, was it?”  
  
“Maggie Walsh,” Riley corrected her. "She's indeed Irish, but she's a woman."  
  
“Right,” Sheila said, looking up at the ceiling as though she was trying to remember events that had happened hundreds of years ago. “She was studying operant conditioning, if I am not mistaken?”  
  
“That's right,” Riley said. “She was at the front of her field.”  
  
Sheila burst into a quiet laughter that seemed decidedly fake to Buffy. “I didn't realise that behaviourism still was considered a field,” she said. “Much less that people would think of it as having a front one can be at.”  
  
“You're not a fan, I take it,” Riley said, sounding just a little bit offended.  
  
“Everyone who's raised a daughter knows that behaviourism is way too reductive,” Sheila said. “We've tried to use positive reinforcement with Willow, but she still went through all the developmental crises like clockwork."  
  
To Buffy, it felt like Riley was some visiting adult relative and she … Willow … she couldn't make out which way it made the most sense to think of herself in this situation … anyway … she was just the kid. How dared Sheila talk about her … Willow … like that, while she was present? Buffy grumbled silently as she picked more shell pieces out of her crab.  
  
“You're a nativist, then?” Riley asked.  
  
“A mentalist,” Sheila said. Buffy was about to ask if a mentalist wasn't some sort of magician but decided to leave it be, seeing that Willow probably wouldn't have to ask such a question. “I believe we are more than just doves who can be taught to peck a button for food.”  
  
At this, Buffy stifled a laugh by snorting loudly. “He likes to take instructions,” she said, remembering Riley's morning work out routine and his slavish dedication to Initiative protocol.  
  
“Professor Walsh would say that the idea of an inner life is just metaphysics,” Riley said, “but I think she may have followed her arguments a little too far in her conclusions.”  
  
Ira smiled. “A man who thinks for himself,” he said. “Our Willow is more concerned with saying whatever she needs to get the best grades.” She looked at Sheila. "I wouldn't say it is the result of an overzealous mother, but hey..."  
  
“Did Willow by any chance show you her essay on Jerome Bruner?” Riley asked. “She demonstrated how Bruner's metaphors for the development of the mind are ill-suited to clarify his theories.”  
  
“Really?” Sheila said, looking almost intrigued at Buffy.  
  
“It wasn't by accident that I fell in love with this, girl,” Riley said and looked deeply into Buffy's eyes. “She was the smartest student in the class.”  
  
Buffy wanted to say, _no, I wasn't,_ and, _if you like her so much, why don't you marry her?_ but instead she pretended to be embarrassed by Riley's praise. "I wasn't really the smartest," she said. "I was just the one that studied the most. The other smart students were probably busy with extra-curricular activities that were just as important ... if not more ... than studying."  
  
****  
  
“Does his penis work?”  
  
“What?”  
  
Anya repeated her question. “Does his penis work?” she said a little louder, as if it was a perfectly natural thing to ask.  
  
“I don't know,” Xander said.  
  
“You haven't checked?” Anya asked and took a sip from her straw.  
  
The buzz of people at the Bronze made it unlikely that they would be overheard. Xander still turned to left and right before he answered. “Of course not,” he said.  
  
“I'm just saying,” Anya continued. “A working penis is an essential part of a boy-girl romantic relationship. If you're too old now, then I'm gonna miss it.”  
  
Xander glared at her. “I'm not old,” he said. “I'm Giles … this isn't me … there are more important … I don't intend to stay this way.”  
  
“He did have that orgasm friend from England over, so his penis probably works,” Anya said. She took the little parasol out of her drink and stuck it behind her ear. “Does this look cute?” she asked in the same perfectly flat voice.  
  
“Anya,” Xander yelled. He had not meant to bang his hands quite so loudly onto the table, but Anya hardly took notice. “This is serious.” He pointed his hands at his chest. “I … am … Giles.”  
  
“You've said so a hundred times,” Anya said. “Honestly, I think you're being a little over-dramatic. Think about all those people that wake up as vampires, or the young girls that wake up as slayers, or the thousand year old demon that woke up as a schoolgirl … or all the men she turned into frogs and slugs back in her day.”  
  
“I can't deal with this,” Xander said, pushing himself away from the table with his hands. “I'm gonna go order myself a beer.” He shook his head and looked off towards the bar. “The only good thing about this is that I don't need an ID.”  
  
“Oh,” Anya said. “Buy me one of those drinks that look like aborted fetuses. The ones with the baileys in them.” Her eyes rolled up to the ceiling. “Memories...”  
  
Xander watched her gather up her hair, so she could place her parasol in it. Then he turned from her with a scoff and started moving through the throng of people. Everyone were fist bumping their bros and balancing their drinks. Those few who noticed him gave him frowny looks, probably disturbed by seeing a creepy looking old guy at a place like this. At the bar, Xander reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out Giles's wallet, bulging with notes. “Beer,” he said, placing one note on the bar. “No change.”  
  
The bartender gave him something orangey from the tap. He lifted the plastic cup to his mouth. It was terribly sour. He should have been more specific, but part of being a man is being able to drink any kind of beer, so it was too late to change. He drank a few sips, until he was confident he could safely carry the cup back to the table without spilling it. But as he started to walk … he noticed someone enter the club from the outside with his arms around a girl. The girl Xander recognised immediately. There was really no mistaking Harmony's stupid grin and bouncy walk. The boy … he had always wonder what hyena-Xander looked like. Now he knew.  
  
As Xander watched, Xander's body let go of Harmony's waist, walked up to one of the pool tables, picked up a cup of water, looked inside it and proceeded to spill its contents out right there on the floor. Then he pulled out a plastic bag of blood from inside his leather jacket and cut it open with a switch-blade, letting the blood spill into the cup. Harmony hovered around him, clapping her hands in expectation. “Here you go, baby,” Xander's body said in a voice that was too deep for Xander. He looked at Harmony with those James Dean, too-cool-to-care half open eyes, as Harmony took the cup and gulped down half of its contents in a flash.  
  
“Hey, Giles,” Anya called from back at the table, waving her arm in the air, but it did not seem as if Xander's body heard or saw her.  
  
Xander began moving towards them, but a group of jocks had formed a circle of chugging and shouting right in front of him, and there was no way he was going to be able to move around or through them until they had finished their little bounding exercise. He was left waiting and watching.  
  
Xander's body pulled a ready-rolled cigarette from behind his ear, stuck it in his mouth and lit it with a tealight he picked up from a table. He had to pull it out when Harmony leaned into him for a kiss with fangs, tongue and the exchange of reddened saliva. The actual Xander wanted to barf, but he held it in, knowing they would kick out the old man if he threw up on somebody's shoes.  
  
A jock was tapping Xander's shoulder … the faux Xander's shoulder … trying to get his attention. Xander moved along the crowd and was able to see that it was Percy. Xander's body ignored him the tapping a long while, until Percy shouted, “Harris,” into his ear.  
  
Xander's body calmly turned away from Harmony to face the interrupter, looking like a tired adult finally acknowledging a petulant child. “Did you want something?” Xander's body asked the much taller Percy. Harmony moved up to stand beside him. Her eyes had a murderous glint in them that Xander had not seen before.  
  
Percy crossed his arms, assuming a defensive stance, leaning slightly away. “What are you up to, Harris?” he said. “That was my drink you threw across the floor.”  
  
Xander's body hunched himself towards him. “I suggest you go to the bar and ask for another free cup of water,” he said, blowing puffs of smoke up into Percy's face with each spoken word. “Or you can put down some money and ask for a grown-up drink.”  
  
First, Percy backed away as though he'd been slapped across the cheek, but after taking a moment to compose himself, he leaned back into Xander's body's face. “Have you forgotten what I do to punks like you?” he said, trying to turn his voice into a low growl. The real Xander could hardly hear him from where he stood.  
  
“You're that basket ball player?” Xander said, letting his mouth form into a very hyena-ish grin and yet somehow managing to dangle the still smoking cigarette at the very edge of his lips. “You look like the kind of nancy who would prefer a non-contact sport.”  
  
They were so close now that the cigarette would burn Percy's face if either of them moved any closer. The growing tip of ash was almost ready to fall. Xander could see Percy closing his fist. He did not want to see his face pummelled, even if he wasn't wearing it himself, because there was real danger of permanent damage here. Percy was as strong as he was dumb.  
  
It was Xander's body who first turned away. “Twist his arm,” he said to Harmony.  
  
Harmony moved forward, grabbed the wrist of Percy's clenched arm and quickly brought it up behind his back. Percy yelled in pain and surprise. Xander's body grabbed the hair at the back of Percy's head and pressed his forehead down onto the green surface of the pool table. The whole club had turned to watch them and crowded so tightly around them that the real Xander had no chance to reach through to them.  
  
Xander's body tapped some ash from his cigarette and let it fall onto Percy's exposed nape. “Let's not make a scene here,” he said. “Let him go Harmony.” Harmony backed off, allowing Percy to stand up again. He shook his arm, clearly in some pain. “How about a friendly game of snooker to clear the air?” Xander's body said.  
  
Percy looked at him with an expression that looked almost like respect. “Snooker?”  
  
“Billiards, then,” Xander's body said and picked up the two cues, thrusting one into Percy's arms. “Pool.”  
  
Just then, the real Xander broke through crowd, but somebody elbowed him, and the almost full cup of sour, orangey beer spilled onto his shirt.  
  
Percy got his cocky sneer back. “The school librarian?” he said. “The fuck you doing here?” His eyes trailed down the wet front of Xander's Hawaiian shirt.  
  
Xander's body rolled his eyes. “Bloody hell,” he said. “It's that old geezer.”  
  
“Have you gone absolutely insane?” Xander yelled at him. “What's this?” he said, pointing at the leather jacket hanging on his true body. “Did you steal it?”  
  
“I didn't steal it,” Xander's body said, pushing Xander's old-man arm away. “I got out some old clothes from the attic.”  
  
Xander shook his head. “You're having the worst kind of midlife crisis, aren't you?” he said, thumping his finger into the chest that was rightfully his own.  
  
“I don't know what you're talking about, Jeeves,” Percy said, “but you better back off!”  
  
Xander was too angry to even look back at Percy. “I think I remember seeing Willow throwing you across that pool table,” he said to him, while still glaring right into his own eyes. “I bet I can throw you across two of those tables.”  
  
“Calm down, you ponce,” Xander's body said, putting his cigarette back between his lips.  
  
“There's no smoking here,” Xander said.  
  
“Are you blind?” his body quipped back at him. “I'm smoking here.” He blew some smoke into Xander's face. “See?”  
  
With a swift motion of his hand, Xander snatched the cigarette away from him. Then he grabbed the collar of what he was now sure was still Giles. “We're going to have a chat,” he said and pulled Giles along, away from Percy and the crowd.  
  
“Don't go anywhere,” Giles said and smacked Harmony across her ass. After Xander had pulled him away from most of the crowd, Giles got out another blood bag and lobbed it over everyone's heads into Harmony's greedy hands. “Just to make sure she doesn't eat anyone,” he said to Xander with that apologetic smile Xander knew he liked to use himself, and which he now realised was the most annoying thing in the world.  
  
“What the actual Hellmouth do you think you're doing, man?” Xander said, looking around to ensure no one was close enough to hear what they were saying. “Have you gone full-on Ripper?”  
  
“Hardly,” Giles said, shrugging nonchalantly. “If I were to go full on Ripper, as you say, I can assure you you would know it.”  
  
“Can you stop being so smug about yourself and be serious for a moment?” Xander's said. “You're in my body.” Then he noticed something in Giles's hair. “Why do you have hairpins in my hair? You make me look all fruity.”  
  
Giles pulled one out and stretched it. “They're Harmony's,” he explained. “I used them to break into the hospital.”  
  
Xander could not believe his ears. “You broke into the hospital with Harmony?” he screamed, not caring if anyone could hear him. “What if they have security cameras?”  
  
“Piffle,” Giles scoffed. “I know my way around a security system.”  
  
“What the hell were you thinking?” Xander screamed.  
  
“Calm down,” Giles said, looking more embarrassed than anything, as if the angry old man was cramping his style. “I had to. She was going to eat you … me. I was saving your life.”  
  
“You were touching tongues with Harmony to save my life?” Xander said, feeling his senses slip with every passing moment.  
  
“That was just a bonus,” Giles said. “You must admit, she's quite the dish. Sorta soft in all the right places, aye?” They both looked back at the pool tables and saw Harmony and Percy both seemingly chatting each other up. Percy had likely not figured out that the Bloody Mary Harmony was drinking - and which she had gotten out of a plastic bag - was actual blood. “If you don't mind, I think I would very much like to get back to it.”  
  
Xander was just about to give Giles an earful about just how much he minded, when Anya caught up with them. “Look at you,” she said, looking at Giles, before looking back at Xander with disappointed eyes. “How come every body you inhabit becomes less sexy?”  
  
“It's the clothes,” Giles said.  
  
“Nah, it's not just the clothes,” Anya said, looking carefully at Xander. “It's his whole … bearing.”  
  
“That too, I guess,” Giles said and lit up another cigarette.  
  
“Anya,” Xander said. “Giles here is going to use my pretty young body to have sex with Harmony.”  
  
Anya looked at Giles. “I don't know how I feel about that,” she said. “On the one side, more sexual experience would increase your romantic market value. Harmony is very pretty. A girl with that much … chestage … wouldn't go out with any random looser.” She looked back at Xander. “I will get to tell the other girls stories about how I snagged you in the end with my superior feminine wiles.”  
  
“What other girls?” Xander said. “Anya, you don't have any friends to show off to.”  
  
Anya scowled at him. “Only because nobody respects me because of my unimpressive boyfriend,” she said and turned to Giles. “If you do make orgrasms with her, be sure to spread the word among the other men-folk.”  
  
Xander started to say something he had not taken the time to think through, but neither he nor the others were able to hear what he was actually saying, because the people around them had started screaming all at once and the entire crowd seems to be pushing for the exits. They moved like rats fleeing a burning ship. Xander, Anya and Giles were pressed against the wall while the wave of people passed by them. Once they were all gone, Harmony was the only one left. Fresh blood ran down the front of her top. Something round rolled off the pool table and landed on the floor. Xander put his glasses back on. It was the remains of Percy's disembodied head.  
  
“I didn't do it, I swear,” Harmony said, once she noticed them staring at her. “Oh god! I'm never gonna get this out of my clothes.” She walked around the pool table and shrieked as she caught sight of what was probably the rest of Percy's body.  
  
A thin figure in a long coat walked across the floor, picked up poor Percy's head and brought it over to the bar, where he mounted it atop the lever on one of the beer taps. “Last call, chaps,” he said. “Finish your drinks, while you still can.”  
  
“Spike,” Xander said. He felt Anya's arms clutch him from behind.  
  
Spike turned to him, smiling through bloodied teeth. “Rubs,” he said. “Fancy running into you here. And Xander!” He made a motion towards Giles. “My two former landlords. It's so nice to be able to tell you that I'm all me own man now.” He then looked towards Harmony, who was sobbing by the pool table, looking like she was gonna barf. “What's the matter, Harm? Don't like the mess I made of him?”  
  
“Your chip?” Xander said. It felt like his throat was filled with tar. The stench from Percy's messes was sickening.  
  
“That old thing?” Spike laughed. “Did you really think such a little contraption could hold back an old blighter like me, Rubs?” He ran his tongue across his row of teeth. “I was just biding my time, thinking I could give that Adam-chap a chance and let him gut the slayer for me, sparing me the work.” He put five whiskey glasses on the bar. “Be sure to bring the slayer my congratulations for killing the bugger,” he said. “I would do it myself, but I figure that when next we meet, there will be time for little else than the killing and the eating.” He nodded towards Percy's ruined face. “You can bring the head to her if you want. I'm sure that will awaken the bloodlust in her … because I promise you ... she's gonna need it.”  
  
Xander felt Anya's hands tug at him. “How about we back out now,” she whispered. Spike glared maliciously at them while they slowly moved towards the exit. As they reached the door, he raised a drink in toast to them.  
  
Out on the streets, Xander was unable to hold it in. He fell forward on his knees and barfed up an entire bucket's worth of digested KFC. You could still see parts of the strips of skin he liked to peel off and eat separately.  
  
“There, there,” Anya said, hitting him on the back, as though he was a burping baby. “Get it out so we can move … far, far … to a place where we all get to keep our heads on our necks.”  
  
Xander stood up. He tried to spit, but the strip of saliva would not disconnect from his lip. He looked back towards the Bronze and saw Harmony coming towards them. She ran past Xander and right into Giles's arms. “It's so horrible,” she said. “He's horrible. We're all monsters, aren't we, to be able to do such a thing to a person?”  
  
“There, there,” Giles said and patted the crying Harmony on her back. “You're not a monster. You're just a young girl with a problematic condition.”  
  
“What do we do now?” Anya asked. “Once we've run 'til our legs collapse, I mean?”  
  
“What we always do,” Xander said. “We go find Buffy.”  
  
“Why?” Anya said. “In the body she's in, she wouldn't be able to win a wrestling match against Tara's cat.”  
  
“What's she talking about?” Harmony said into Giles's shoulder. “Isn't Buffy going to save us?”  
  
Xander moaned. “She's going to save us, but she will kill you,” he said. “We'll just have to fix her first. It is time to knock Willow and Tara's heads together and get this thing sorted.” He glared at Giles. “I don't assume you'll be much help.”  
  
Giles sighed. “It may be that we have let this go on long enough,” he said.  
  
Anya looked back to the Bronze. “Well, I guess he is not coming after us, because if he was, our heads would be rolling on the sidewalk about halfway through this thrilling conversation.”  
  
“Excuse me,” a voice coming from across the road said, “but have you lovely people seen my date?”  
  
Xander was about to stop the woman from approaching the Bronze, but when he turned and looked at her, he recognised her as Drusilla. “Oh god,” was all he was able to say.  
  
Drusilla was wearing a sleeveless dress, showing off her long skinny arms. The nails at the ends of her fingers looked sharp as claws. “You look like a fun bunch of people,” she said, gently swaying as she spoke. “Wanna join me for a party? My boy has promised me we're gonna have fun.”  
  
“Rain check?” was all Xander could think to say.  
  
“Write it out to Drusilla,” Drusilla said. “Drusilla Keeble.”  
  
Xander checked his jacket pockets. “Seems I forgot my check book,” he said. “You're just gonna have to trust me.”  
  
Drusilla nodded sternly, as though the conversation they'd been having had made perfect sense to her. “Okay,” she finally said. “As long as you promise.” She started walking towards the Bronze, trailing her long dress after her. “I haven't been back here in a while. I am looking to make as many new friends as I can,” was the last thing they heard her say before she vanished through the doors.  
  
“Was that Spike's ex?” Harmony asked once Drusilla had gone.  
  
“Yep,” Xander said, trying in vain to swallow. “We're in trouble.”  
  
“Don't worry,” Harmony said and put a hand on his shoulder. “Xander will figure something out.” She turned towards Giles. “Won't you, Xander?”

 


End file.
